


(but I’m winning)

by junes_discotheque



Category: The Magicians (TV)
Genre: Multi, Polyamory, food thievery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-17
Updated: 2019-04-17
Packaged: 2020-01-15 08:15:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18494980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/junes_discotheque/pseuds/junes_discotheque
Summary: They’ve worked it out. Mostly.





	(but I’m winning)

**Author's Note:**

> I’ve been thinking about how these three would work together for days and it wouldn’t leave me alone so. This is the result. It’s not really a healthy depiction of polyamory, like, at all, but they’re trying. Maybe it’ll work. Maybe it won’t. People and relationships are complicated.
> 
> Also my laptop keyboard broke so this was written on my notes app. Apologies for any formatting weirdness.

Eliot pokes through the fridge, trying to find his leftover empanadas from that one mind blowing food truck (the orange one with the sun on the back that hangs out six blocks south of the penthouse and only seems to be open at two in the morning; a godsend for Eliot, who never had a normal sleep schedule and whose insomnia has only gotten worse since the Monster). He could have sworn he left the little foil-wrapped packages on the third shelf with a pink Post-It, but they’re nowhere to be found, and he wonders if there’s enough ambient magic for a tracking spell.

 

Or a food-thief curse.

 

He’s contemplating appropriate revenge and how much he hates sharing a fridge with everyone when the door bangs open and laughter fills the apartment. Eliot’s heart clenches at the familiar sound.

 

“El-i-ooot!” comes from the foyer, a happy giggle following that Eliot knows isn’t actually as drunk as it sounds. He closes the fridge and goes out to greet them.

 

Quentin has an arm around Alice’s shoulders and is nuzzling happily into her hair, but his eyes widen and the soft curve of his mouth splits into a full grin when he spots Eliot. With effort, Eliot manages not to feel victorious. Q hates it when he thinks they’re competing over him; he gets this wrinkle in his brow and his big brown eyes get all wide and sad. He loves them both so much, he says. He hates the idea that their arrangement might be upsetting them.

 

(Never mind that they’re _always_ competing, and Eliot is going to _win_.)

 

Letting go of Alice, Quentin makes grabby-hands in the direction of Eliot. He stumbles a little, right into Eliot’s waiting arms.

 

“How was your date?” Eliot asks. It comes out slightly sarcastic, but no stronger than his default.

 

“It was so _nice_ ,” Q gushes, delighted. “We went to this super weird place and I didn’t understand _any_ of the menu. I kept thinking, Eliot would _love_ this. You’d have so many terrible things to say about our waiter.”

 

Eliot catches Alice’s gaze over Q’s head. She’s holding herself stiff and still, her expression perfectly blank, her arms right at her sides.

 

“You would’ve _hated_ the movie, though,” Q says.

 

“I don’t doubt it,” Eliot smirks, and then, because Q is sweet and warm against his body and he’s feeling magnanimous, he adds, to Alice, “I’m glad he has you for those.”

 

“Thanks,” Alice says. She smiles, a little bit, and Q grins brightly at her and then at Eliot.

 

It’s weird. Not the poly part; Eliot has memories of loving Q while Q loved Arielle, and even before then, of being prepared to marry King Idri while he was married to Fen. He’s _still_ married to her, technically, but the arrangement only exists so he and his friends are welcome in Fillory when they need it. Alice, for her part, grew up in a house with parents who threw regular orgies and were in a triad themselves. And it’s the twenty-first century. Polyamory is almost passé.

 

The weird part is that it’s Alice he’s sharing Quentin with. And that he’s willing to share Quentin at all, now that he has him. And, in his worst moments, the thought that _he’ll only choose you if he gets pussy too_ flits up into Eliot’s brain and won’t leave. He’s been tempted, more than once, to just say fuck it and force Quentin to choose.

 

But then there are moments like this. Moments when Q is so delirious on love, fucking _shining_ with it, and so happy to see Eliot and Alice trying with each other. It’s worth it. It has to be worth it.

 

Alice clears her throat, like the moment is choking her, and takes a step forward to card her fingers through Quentin’s hair. “I’m going to bed, Q,” she says. “Do you want to spend the night with El?”

 

“Can I?” Quentin asks.

 

“Yeah. I’m just going to sleep, so if you’re up for...” She glances up at Eliot, questioningly, and Eliot winks at her.

 

“Thanks, Alice,” Q says. She kisses his head and Eliot tips his chin up to kiss his mouth and both of them lose themselves for a handful of minutes while Alice disappears up the stairs.

 

He pulls away to admire the red shine of Quentin’s lips. Q always kisses like he’s starved for it, like he could glut himself on Alice’s and Eliot’s love and still be desperate for more. Really, it’s the only reason this (sort of) works—Quentin loves so honestly and openly, and so much, that Eliot never feels like he’s chasing it. More often it’s the opposite; it’s so intense, Eliot has to keep himself from running away.

 

(He ran once. Never again. Alice will have to kill him before he’ll let Q go, and even then, he will fight Penny-40 and the whole damn Underworld to get back to him.)

 

“El?” Q asks, pushing a stray curl out of Eliot’s eyes. He’s been still and silent too long, lost in his thoughts, and Quentin looks worried. “What’s going on in there?”

 

“Nothing,” Eliot says. “Just admiring the view.”

 

“It’s better in your room,” Q says, smirking. “If you wanna see.”

 

Eliot does.

 

(Quentin spends most of the next morning hiding in Eliot’s room until Alice shows up with a box of granola bars. Eliot, from the bathroom, hears her try to assure him he wasn’t _that_ loud, but she’s only barely a better liar than Q himself. Quentin isn’t quiet and there’s not enough ambient for a proper silencing spell, which means probably the entire penthouse heard him last night. Q makes soft dying sounds through the wall and Eliot contemplates a victory lap, before deciding it’s too much effort this early—especially since he’s still riding the glow from the night before—and settles for stealing a kiss from Q and a granola bar from Alice before heading downstairs.

 

He still has an empanada thief to find.)


End file.
